


It Feels Right

by writingonpostcards



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Getting Together, M/M, POV Alternating, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7174181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Two hours ago he was thinking about dating Derek, and now he’s thinking about dating Jordan, and he’s also (still) thinking about that throwaway line he gave earlier about polyamory which now doesn’t seem so much a throwaway line as a throw-really-hard-and-get-it-stuck line. Because it’s stuck.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>He likes two different guys, and as far as he can tell, they both like him back. So the situation is, how does he choose?</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Feels Right

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Teen Wolf Glompfest.
> 
> Based on the following prompt: supernatural is known au where Stiles is a detective/pi that uses his knowledge of the supernatural to get info (i.e he is kind of slutty). Winds up drawing the attention of a werewolf and hellhound who are best friends. Figures they'll stop courting him when they realize about each other, but doesn't expect them to be just fine with that.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Private investigating is not where Stiles had predicted his life would take him back when he was hunched over a library desk studying for the Bar, but he supposes you’ve got to know the rules to break the rules, and he does a lot of that.

Cleverly though. Subtlety. With a hint of his spark and a bucket load of coercion. Read: flirting.

So okay, maybe it’s not super glamorous and maybe he doesn’t get to work on a top floor office somewhere with a great view, but he makes a real difference to people’s lives, which is why he wanted to become a lawyer in the first place. But yeah, the flirting, not exactly a by-the-book method, but one that’s easy enough for Stiles to utilise.

He’s attractive, maybe even more than the average guy or girl, and he knows how to charm. Charming is his schtick. That and parlour tricks, but some people get put off by the supernatural, so Stiles normally sticks to his tried and true smile and his patented just-rolled-out-of-bed-after-sex hair. Works like a charm (which it isn’t).

Case in point, the douchebag sitting across from him. One of Stiles’ many “please, I think my husband/wife/partner is cheating on me” targets and he’s in the middle of phase one for proving the claims’ legitimacy – figuring out whether the husband/wife/partner has the inclination towards cheating.

This guy 100% does. Screwed himself from the moment he accepted Stiles’ offer to replace the drink he ‘accidentally’ knocked over, to the seventh time he’d touched Stiles ‘casually’. Next step, catch him in the act. But first, Stiles needs to extricate himself. He’s not proud of it, but when he gets another drink for the man, he takes a second to ooze a little of his spark into it, enough to give the sleaze-bag a bit of a headache tomorrow and fuzzy memories of their conversation.

Stiles slips his jacket back on and tips the bartender, telling him to call a cab for Mr Definitely-Having-An-Affair.

Outside, Stiles takes a moment to breathe in the cool night air. Or he tries to.

What actually happens is he’s grabbed by his wrist out of the doorway and pressed to the outer wall of the bar.

His gaze tracks from the hand on his chest up along an arm corded with muscle and covered with dark hair until eventually he’s looking into a pair of blazing blue eyes.

Uh-oh.

He draws his spark to attention and then demands to know what the guy thinks he’s doing.

“You did something to that guy’s drink.”

“Prove it.” Probably the wrong response. Stiles gets pressed harder against the wall while the werewolf growls at him. “Okay, okay, look. It was nothing nefarious. The guy was coming onto me and I wasn’t exactly appreciative of his attention so I, you know, shut that down.”

“By roofie-ing him.” The werewolf doesn’t move his hand, though the eyes have dropped the blue.

“No. That’s against my moral code.”

“Apparently lying isn’t. I’ve been listening to you all night. You clearly ‘came on’ to him. So, again, what did you do to his drink?”

“You’ve been listening to me all night?” Stiles brings his hand up to run down the werewolf’s arm and _that_ finally gets him to move it.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t-” The werewolf sighs and steps back, looking surprisingly flustered by Stiles’ comment. “It wasn’t like that.”

Stiles surveys him, from the styled hair to the leather jacket to the tight jeans and worn boots.

“If it was,” Stiles begins, “I’d find nothing wrong with that.”

Now it’s the werewolf’s turn to look him over. Stiles stands his ground, confident.

The werewolf is blushing but he says, “Okay then. It was like that. I find you appealing.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

Stiles feels the beginnings of a good night curling around him, but a cab pulls up noisily to the curb and Stiles, knowing who’s about to walk out, has to make his excuses to go.

“So while this has been, well not all of it, but some of it, lovely, I must bid you goodnight.”

Stiles leaves the werewolf standing on the curb side as he ducks into the next laneway, heading back to his apartment.

If only that cab hadn’t shown up, Stiles could be… well, who knows actually, but probably doing something more exciting than going through Mr Definitely-Having-An-Affair’s recent emails and phone messages, which is what he does when he gets home.

-

Derek slams the door when he gets in that night, left unsatisfied by the clearly unfinished business between him and that infuriating spark. It’s not at all where he expected himself to be right about this time. He’d only accepted the blind date because he thought it was time he got proactive about moving on from his crush on Jordan.

Harder done than said. Or is that easier said than done? He shakes his head and huffs, trying to get that spark out of his mind. He was meant to be awkwardly talking with some stranger he’d been set up with, maybe walking them home, maybe getting a tour of their house. He wasn’t meant to be standing here in his doorway with a head full of spark.

“Bad date?”

Derek startles. Jordan is standing in their kitchen, mug of coffee in hand.

“Sorry, didn’t realise you were still up.” If he had, he probably would have reserved his internal monologue until he was in his bedroom, and not had it in front of his roommate slash crush.

“Recently up,” Jordan corrects. “Got a shift in twenty.”

Derek nods, making his way to the couch, and drops himself onto it, toeing off his boots. Ordinarily – no, wait, there it goes. Derek’s stomach does a half-flip to see Jordan in his uniform.

“The guy didn’t show.”

“Well that sucks.”

“Probably for the best,” Derek sighs ~~.~~ “I only agreed because Erica’s been pestering me again.” _And because I’m trying to not be half-in-love with you._

Jordan nods his understanding, finishing off his coffee and rinsing the mug, refilling it with water.

“Why out so late if the guy didn’t show?”

Which is a great question and one Derek doesn’t have a satisfactory answer for. How does he begin it? There was this really attractive guy. There was this really infuriating guy. There was this spark. I really needed a night away from your everything.

“Eyes,” Jordan prompts, and Derek realises they’ve been glowing blue. Jordan doesn’t point it out because he has a problem with it, that would be hypocritical for another supernatural to do so, but Derek’s trying to become more aware of when the wolf comes out. As a born wolf, it’s such a second nature that he often doesn’t notice little things like his eyes changing colours, or his claws coming out. He asked Jordan to be on watch duty, and he happily agreed.

Sometimes Derek regrets that decision because he’s noticed Jordan noticing him a lot more recently, and he’s worried his emotions toward Jordan are going to show clearly on his face, slipping out because they’re as much second-nature to him as being a werewolf.

He scrubs a palm down his face and breathes deeply. It’s strange for him to be so affected by the spark, someone he’s spent so little time with. He’s normally a deep feelings kind of guy. He’d known Jordan an entire year before he invited him over to his apartment (which they now share), and Jordan is far nicer than whoever this spark guy is.

“There was someone there who caught my attention.”

“And you stayed hours to stare at them?” Jordan teases.

Derek huffs. “No. I stayed because he’s a spark and I-”

Jordan laughs. “Say no more.”

“What do you mean?”

“Derek. Sparks are your type.”

 _You’re my type_ , he thinks.

Derek sits forward on the edge of the couch. “They’re all- sparks are all different. That doesn’t make sense.”

“To you, maybe not, but it’s different for your wolf.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Then my wolf is an idiot. Every single spark I’ve met has been horribly infuriating.”

“And yet,” Jordan begins slyly (how one can be sly wearing a police uniform and drinking from a Disney mug, Derek will never know), “you’ve slept with every single one you’ve met.”

Derek goes to refute that statement and then realises he can’t. How does Jordan know him so well? Better than he does. Maybe it’s his hellhound side, giving him a stronger link to the supernatural. Derek hopes Jordan isn’t put off by it. If they were ever in a relationship, would that knowledge make him insecure? That Derek’s been with a lot of people? That apparently his wolf is attracted to a type of supernatural that Jordan isn’t? Not that Jordan has any reason to be put off, of course, seeing as he’s not with Derek _like_ _that_. Derek shouldn’t spend his time worrying about this. He’s moving on from Jordan. He made that decision.

“Gotcha,” Jordan declares.

“I hate that it’s true.”

“No, you don’t.”

He thinks back on all the sex he’s had with sparks, which makes it sound like a lot but sparks aren’t that common. He’s only been with three. He knows Jordan’s slept with at least one too because they bonded over it early in their friendship, making up those awful lists of people you’re allowed to fuck if you’re in a relationship and the opportunity arises. They both have Clyde Parker on theirs, who’s a famous author and spark.

“I don’t,” Derek admits.

“Think you’ll see the Spark again?”

“Probably not.” Derek sighs. “I pinned him against a wall.”

“Sounds promising.”

“And accused him of trying to date rape a guy.”

“Ah. That’s less promising.”

“Yeah.”

Maybe Derek should admit defeat. On the getting over Jordan front _and_ the spark front.

This easy banter right here? It just makes Derek want to smother the crap out of Jordan, soothe that pulsing under his skin he gets sometimes around him. And the spark was attractive, sure; mouthy and stood up to Derek’s attitude, but none of that is really a solid reason for pursuing him. Maybe the buzz under Derek’s skin is, and his recently resurfaced memories of other sparks he’s been with.

He does feel due for a relationship, and he can sense, werewolf side more strongly perhaps, that there could be something there with the spark.

An alarm goes off on Jordan’s watch, interrupting Derek’s train of thought. He stands up and grabs Jordan’s jacket for him as he passes it on the way to his bedroom. Practised and easy. Jordan takes it from him and grasps Derek’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze on the way out. Derek sighs out and closes his eyes. He may not be able to take pain, but Jordan is soothing in his own way.

Derek lies clothed on top of the bed, mind wandering in circles around his night and the spark for several minutes before he finds the energy to actually strip and get into bed.

-

Jordan doesn’t mind overnight shifts, though he doesn’t get them much. He’s been at the precinct for six years and there have been four new rounds of recruits brought in since him. The town, whilst housing a plethora of supernatural beings, is generally peaceful. Most night shifts are an excuse for Jordan to catch up on paperwork. Or his paperback, seeing as he’s too studious to let much slip behind.

Unfortunately, they had a big arrest at the end of last week, and Jordan finds himself filling out paperwork (and answering a few non-urgent phone calls) throughout the night. When his shift ends at 8am he’s exhausted, which is why he assumes it’s a hallucination that there’s an attractive brunet standing outside the station with a warm coffee for him.

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” Jordan asks after he’s clicked onto the fact that there really is a man standing in front of him, trying to press a cup into his unresponsive hand.

The guy grabs his hand and wraps it around the drink for him. It’s warm. Both the drink and the hand.

“Well I was just walking past earlier and I saw you in there and, you know, I think we should try and be supportive of our local law enforcement officers and so I got you a coffee.”

Jordan nods. “Thank you.”

He expects the other guy to leave then, but he just stands there and smiles and moves the strap of his messenger bag higher on his shoulder.

“Could I help you with anything else?”

“Well, actually, there is something I wanted to ask. Officer Parrish.”

“It’s Jordan.”

“Jordan.”

Here the guy steps into Jordan’s space, and Jordan is forced to move the coffee to the side so it doesn’t get upended. He looks into brown eyes and glances down at a pair of shining lips before realising he’s missed the conversation again.

The other guy puts a hand on his arm and leans even further into Jordan’s space. “Are you okay?” The concern plays itself beautifully across his face.

“Yes. Sorry. I’m just a bit tired. Just finished the overnight shift.”

“Oh, of course. That’s my bad. I should’ve realised.” The guy steps back. “We could maybe, could we talk another day then?”

Jordan doesn’t know what they’d talk about, having tuned out that conversation earlier in favour of admiring the man.

“That sounds good.”

The guy nods thankfully and smiles, reaching into his bag to pull out a notebook and pen. He scrawls a name and number on the paper and slips it directly into Jordan’s front pocket, which Jordan lets him do, too overwhelmed by how close he’s getting.

“I’ll see you later then,” the man says with confidence, retreating slowly backwards. “Have a good nap!”

Jordan raises the hand with the coffee in it and then walks slowly to his car, questioning the last six minutes of his life.

It’s not that he’s never been approached like that before. As a well-known deputy in the precinct, he often has people coming up to thank him for everything from kitten rescues to arrests, or to talk to him about an investigation, or with their neighbourly concerns. But this guy didn’t feel like one of those people, though he was framing it that way. Or was he? Jordan did miss a lot of their conversation as his sleep-deprived brain danced around cataloguing a mole-dotted face.

Jordan shrugs it off and decides to think on it later, after he’s caught up on sleep. He probably shouldn’t drink the coffee if that’s his plan, but he’d feel bad for not at least trying it, seeing as that guy went to all the trouble of getting it for him.

At the next red light, he picks it up from the cup holder and takes a sip. He makes a noise of surprise. It’s his exact order.

-

Stiles paces his rented office space agitatedly, running his hands through his hair.

God what a botched up effort that was this morning. Could he have _been_ any less effective?

It’s not about the coffee, because that is a staple and always works. When you can spark a drink to one’s perfect preference, it takes a lot of guess-work away from the thing. So no, not that. And it wasn’t the set-up. Stiles knows that Jordan is one of the officers who will always take the time to listen to citizens about whatever the hell they want to talk about. He knows through a friend of a friend that Jordan once spent almost an hour with Mrs Higgins while she talked him through the best six ways to make a sponge cake as repayment for unblocking her gutters last autumn. So not that either.

It’s just the timing of this whole thing. Stiles is not usually into rush jobs. Which isn’t to say he doesn’t rush his investigations, because he does, but that’s more because when he gets stuck into an assignment he just keeps going with it. Why stop when there’s more to be done?

So yes, it was the timing that was the issue. Stiles knew that Jordan was coming off the back of a night shift, so this bungle was on him. But he’s given Jordan his number now. He’ll call. They always do. Well, most of them… no, actually, now that he’s thinking of it, Stiles has a 100% success rate. Huh. He should add that to the website.

If he had one. Private investigation isn’t so suited to having a public website. Word of mouth is basically how he gets clients. And it works, with a little help along from his spark encouraging clients to spread the word to those most likely to require his services. It’s not underhanded.

Also he has a bit of help from his in-the-know friends, which is most of them actually, considering the minuscule size of that group.

Which brings him to his current case.

It’s not even a case as such, but Malia’s laptop has found its way into evidence lockup because her ex was a murdering wraith or were-ghost or something both edgy and incomprehensible. She’s asked Stiles to clear some files off it for her, and also retrieve the fourth cut of a music video she’d been editing for some big name that apparently only lives on her computer (the video file, not the artist). Does she not know of the wonders of the cloud and having multiple backup drives? She does, because Stiles taught her.

All he needs is to get into the precinct in a non-suspicion arousing way and then get out after “getting lost” in the evidence lock up room. Which is where Jordan comes in. Flirt with him, visit him at work, perfect cover.

Or it would have been if Stiles hadn’t messed up this morning. Now he has to wait for Jordan to call him or else he won’t look non-suspicious. Or whatever the more lexically appropriate version of that sentence is.

Oh and another complication to add to the list, Stiles finds himself actually actively liking Jordan. Hard not to when you’re standing there looking into a pair of gorgeous green eyes and getting soft smiles and feeling warm from the heat the guy’s body radiates. Like a living electric blanket or fluffy dressing gown. Man, would Stiles like to be wrapped in that dressing gown.

Stiles bites at his lip, staring at his silent phone.

-

When Derek comes home that evening, he finds Jordan dressed in sweatpants and a singlet top braced on the kitchen counter staring at a piece of paper.

“Hey.”

“Yeah.”

Derek is immediately concerned. Jordan is a glass half-full guy, and it’s strange to see him so… perplexed?

“Everything okay?”

Jordan lifts a muscled arm and points at the note. Derek goes to stand beside him, probably too close but it’s hard to help. His hip bumps up against Jordan’s and neither moves away.

He reads the note: _‘Stiles. Call me when you can!’_ followed by a phone number.

“He cute?” Derek asks through a sudden spike of jealousy.

Jordan sighs and turns around to lounge against the bench, crossing his arms over his chest, reminding Derek that that’s the top he’s been trying to get Jordan to throw out for months. It’s much too small. It’s much too much for Derek to handle in an appropriate way.

“Very cute.”

Another spike of jealousy. Thank goodness hellhounds can’t scent emotions like werewolves can. “Have you called yet?”

Jordan sighs again. “Not yet.”

“Why not? You’re attractive, you’re nice, you’ve got a good job.” Derek stops before he starts sounding infatuated and switches position to lean against the counter as well, pressing into Jordan. “Plus, you were telling me the other day you wanted to meet someone.”

“When did I say that?”

“When I told you I was going on that blind date-”

“The one who didn’t show.”

“Yeah. You said ‘jealous’.”

Jordan colours and looks away, leaving Derek somewhat confused.

He backs off, walking to collect his dumped books which he’d abandoned to comfort Jordan earlier.

“Call him,” he suggests once more to mask any negativity that may have come through due to his inability to move on from Jordan.

As he’s shutting the door to his room, he can hear Jordan grumbling. Something about ‘not meant to hear’ and ‘got to lose’. When he steps out after a shower, he can hear Jordan on the phone to a man. He’s laughing. Derek’s gut twinges and he quickly shakes it off, reminding himself that he’d encouraged Jordan to make the call so he shouldn’t feel jealous.

He might be losing him to someone, but he’ll only be losing the opportunity for him and Jordan to be in a relationship, which Derek was trying to do anyway by going on the blind date. Healthier. More mature. No-one should crush on their best friend anyway, it all gets so tangled and confused. Particularly when you live with them, see them every day.

Derek knows he and Jordan have a friendship that no-one could interfere with. That makes it hurt a little less when Jordan smiles bashfully when he’s recounting his and Stiles’ meeting over dinner.

-

Stiles fistpumps the air, then twirls and flops face first onto his bed.

“Fucking yes,” he tells his pillow.

Jordan had called back, and they’re on for a meeting tomorrow afternoon. Now all he’s got to do is find where he put his lock picking kit and look up the floorplans to the precinct. But now, sleep.

The lock picking kit is in its usual hideout of a shoebox in Stiles’ closet. That found and five hours before he’s meant to meet Jordan, Stiles heads to the library to start some research on another case (a _proper_ case) of his. Something about a lost family fortune and a mattress stuffed full of cash. He’s interested in the microfiche collection of local newspapers.

He’s very familiar with the library and how it works, because as nifty as he is with a laptop and google, sometimes you need the tangibility of a book (and to not be stuck behind a desk all day).

What he is _not_ familiar with is the librarian re-shelving in the aisle he’s just turned into. A smidge taller than Stiles, nice solid hands and thick, dark hair. And that’s just the back of him.

Stiles straightens up and puts on a smile, then says, “Excuse me?”

The librarian turns to him, eyebrows raised and arm still hovering in the air by the shelf it’s just deposited a book on.

Turns out Stiles is wrong. He does know this person.

“You.”

“You.”

Stiles laughs at the absurdity of it. “This is some serendipity shit right here. I was hoping I’d see you again.”

Stiles walks up to the werewolf librarian, the same werewolf who had him against a wall a few nights ago. That made it sound a lot more fun than it actually was. Sigh.

“Well, I can’t say I’m disappointed to see you either.”

The werewolf lowers his arm and Stiles remembers how it felt to have the strength in it restraining him the other night. He can’t help but look over the man in front of him. He’s terribly attractive, plus working at a library speaks to his intellect and passions so that’s another major turn on. But Stiles _is_ in a library, and those kind of thoughts are frowned upon in this setting.

The werewolf picks up on it though. Werewolf. Enhanced senses. His eyes flash blue for a second before he shuts them forcefully and looks away. Stiles is gleeful that his own arousal is having such an effect. But what can he say, obvious strength and a propensity for tight jeans does it for him.

“How long have you been working here? I’m surprised I haven’t run into you before now.”

“Temporary transfer from the State Library. Just covering for Mary.”

“Cool.”

The two stare at each other, and Stiles finds his breathing getting a tad shallow.

“Did you actually want assistance with anything?”

A great opening for a flirty line if there ever was, but Stiles did come to work (and rent is coming up), so instead he says, “Nope. Just came for the microfiche. This was but a lovely distraction. Like taking the scenic route.”

“Well, I’ll be here all day if you do find yourself needing something.” The way he says it, Stiles knows exactly what he’s implying, but he can’t go thinking with his dick all the time (or any of the time, as some of his friends may contest to after seeing the results of that kind of thinking).

“See you round then.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “inevitably it seems.”

-

The novelty of handling the microfiche wore off several cases ago, and Stiles tries his hardest to not take up the werewolf’s offer. It helps that he knows he’s meeting Jordan soon. No use going in to flirt with him if he’s obviously just had sex. That is one faux-pas Stiles does not want to repeat. Not that he expects the attractive werewolf actually would sneak off to the bathroom for a quickie with him. As much as he flirts, Stiles isn’t that kind of guy. Besides, Jordan is some kind of supernatural (Stiles hasn’t been able to parse out what) and he may be able to smell it on him. So nice thought, but no.

Stiles is good at his job, but it takes him nearly the full five hours to find everything he needs. He’s starving at the end of it though, and goes to find a quick lunch before meeting Jordan. He swears that was his plan but, of course, he runs into the werewolf again. At the café though, not the library.

“I have a strange suspicion that you’re following me,” the guy says as Stiles drops down into the seat across from him at the table.

“How do we know you’re not the one following me?” The guy just raises his eyebrows. “Right. You were here first. Lunch break?”

Again, no words, but he picks up his sandwich and takes a massive bite from it, which answers Stiles’ question.

It seems the world is turned against Stiles getting lucky with the werewolf, because just as he’s about to start on a tirade of questions, an alarm goes off on Stiles’ phone, reminding him he’s meeting Jordan in fifteen minutes. He silences it, then shoots werewolf librarian a look.

“As lovely as this has been, I’ve got places to be, people to see.”

“People?”

“Meeting with a guy,” Stiles admits, one because it’s true, and two because he wants to see how the werewolf will react.

“Should I be worried?”

 _No_ , thinks Stiles, then remembers all about Jordan and changes that to _maybe_. Not that the werewolf looks worried, more the opposite. What a cocky (sinfully attractive) bastard.

“Don’t know yet. Potentially.” After all, Jordan is just as attractive, albeit in a different way. “Are you interested in polyamory?”

“Potentially.” The werewolf doesn’t miss a beat.

Stiles brain goes there, oh does it ever. Werewolf and Jordan. He can see it actually, the hard and the soft, the snarky and the calm, the librarian and the police officer. They’d actually be really nice counter-points to each other.

Stiles has never seriously considered polyamory before (in a non-serious way, hell yes he has, but that was potentially driven by jealousy and loneliness and sharing an apartment with Scott and whatever ‘significant other’ he was currently being cute with), but he thinks he could give it a proper go with the right pair. But he’s getting twenty steps ahead of himself. Jordan and this guy don’t even _know_ each other, for Christ’s sake, and it’s not like Stiles can be all ‘so I like both of you and wanna try dating you both, but like, at once, like, together, like-’

A second alarm starts ringing, and this is why Stiles sets second (and fifth) alarms. His mind is a wanderer.

“I will keep that in mind,” Stiles says to the werewolf, and flips a wave over a shoulder as he leaves.

-

Jordan’s phone alarm goes off, letting him know he has five minutes until Stiles is meant to arrive.

He’s nervous.

He hasn’t felt this giddy about meeting someone since his first date with a guy after coming out. Or maybe when he moved in with Derek.

Jordan leaves his desk and waits around the entranceway for Stiles to get in. He doesn’t pace, though he wants to. He attempts to distract himself by trying to remember Stiles’ conversation from the other morning, those parts he’d missed while staring. It’s a futile attempt. He’d already been doing it all last night after making the phone call and hadn’t gotten any closer to the true meaning behind the meeting. All he managed to do was worry Derek enough by the chemo signals he was sending out that Derek had offered to pain-drain him, or at least ‘ _make you a goddamn hot chocolate, you’re too anxious’_.

Marlene walks past and teases him about his shaking hands, so he puts them into his pockets and ignores her, only to pull them out a second later as Stiles tumbles through the front door.

Jordan smiles without thinking about it. “Hi, Stiles.”

“Officer Parrish! Jordan. Hello.” Stiles surprises Jordan by coming over and giving him a hug. Jordan’s just managing to respond after the shock of it when Stiles pulls back. “Sorry, sorry. That was probably boundary crossing. You’re at work.”

Jordan shakes his head. “I didn’t mind.”

“Really?” Stiles twists his pretty lips between his teeth.

“Should we go somewhere to talk?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Stiles beams and Jordan thinks that every smile he’s seen from him has been worth remembering.

As Jordan leads Stiles through the public areas of the precinct, he watches Stiles out the corner of his eye. Stiles seems to be cataloguing everything with an openly enthralled look on his face.

“New to police precincts?” Jordan inquires.

Stiles turns to face Jordan, eyes wide. “Sorry, what was that?”

Jordan chuckles. “I asked whether you’ve been inside a police precinct before.”

Stiles gets a funny look on his face for a second before he shrugs, bashful. “Actually, plenty of times.”

“Oh. Do I need to be worried about any of those times?”

“Hardly.” Stiles bumps his shoulder against Jordan’s, and it reminds him so much of Derek that for a moment he swears he can smell the werewolf. “Son of a Sheriff. I’m basically a textbook law abider. I was just seeing how different it is in here.”

Jordan feels instantly more connected with Stiles simply knowing he has a police connection in his own family. “Notice anything surprising?”

“Yeah, you guys are _neat_. My dad’s office used to have crazy corkboards overflowing with clippings and photos and whatnot. I get a bit of a hospital vibe from this place, actually.”

“I can assure you, our backrooms would be just as messy as the ones in your other precinct.”

“Can I see them?” Stiles asks eagerly, then stops still and grabs Jordan’s arm. “No, ignore that. That was a stupid request. Besides, I really came here to talk to you, not perv at you. At your precinct. Crap.”

Jordan feels himself blushing. It might be a sympathy blush because Stiles’ cheeks are tinging pink too.

“I was, uh…” He clears his throat. “I was actually going to take you back there anyway. More private if you still want to talk?”

Stiles nods and rubs a little at Jordan’s arm before taking his hand away and fiddling with the top button of his shirt.

“Lead the way.”

-

As Stiles is picking the lock to the evidence room, he lets himself acknowledge that he has a problem. Okay it’s not really a _problem_ , and if he told any of his friends, they’d be quick to point that out. But he has a… situation. Jordan is really nice. Jordan is really lovely. Jordan is someone Stiles would like to _date_ and not just flirt with for nefarious purposes. (He’s still going to do the nefarious thing though. He owes Malia.) So he feels a bit guilty about his current undertaking. He’s got the computer now, and hopefully once he’s finished he can get back out there and make amends for his guilt.

But actually, that’s almost a separate problem, because two hours ago he was thinking about dating the werewolf librarian, and now he’s thinking about dating Jordan, and he’s also (still) thinking about that throwaway line he gave earlier about polyamory which now doesn’t seem so much a throwaway line as a throw-really-hard-and-get-it-stuck line. Because it’s stuck.

He likes two different guys, and as far as he can tell, they both like him back. So the situation is, how does he choose?

Why is Stiles the worst person? This is such a ridiculous problem to have.

He’s finished with grabbing Malia’s stuff for her so he has no more excuses to stay in here and figure out what he’s going to do. He’ll just do it on the fly, as normal.

He takes a deep breath and goes out prepared to flirt some more with Jordan and see where it leads, but there’s someone already at his desk, leaning over it and chatting to him. The guy at the desk has nice hands and nice hair and, hang on. Hasn’t Stiles already done this today?

“Stiles. Hey! You’re back.” Jordan stands up and gestures to the guy whose back is still to Stiles. “This is my friend, Derek. He’s also my roommate.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Stiles puts out his hand, ready for a handshake, but when Derek turns around to face Stiles, it turns out that it’s _Derek_. Who is apparently also the werewolf librarian _and_ hot werewolf from the bar.

Fuck.

Stiles drops his hand, and Derek turns sharply to Jordan.

“This is the guy who gave you his number?”

Jordan nods. “Yeah. You told me I should call him.”

Derek looks back to Stiles, angry. “But I didn’t think-” Derek cuts himself off, and Stiles feels like an intruder even though the conversation is about him.

He guesses from Derek’s perspective it looks like he’s been playing them both. Which Stiles has, sort of. So the anger is justified, sort of.

“Do you two know each other?’ Jordan asks after a moment.

“Uh, kind of. A little,” Stiles stutters when Derek doesn’t say anything.

“He’s the spark from the bar that night.” Derek says it very reluctantly and without looking at either of them.

“Oh.” Jordan looks at Stiles who bites his lip and shrugs, not sure what he’s trying to signify. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have-”

“Don’t be stupid,” Derek interrupts, looking finally at Jordan. Stiles can read years of history in that gaze, and it makes him both want to have that too, and feel a little sad that he doesn’t.

And then there’s silence.

Although it’s a common misconception, Stiles does not hate silence. He just hates the awkward tension of _this_ particular one. So he puts his foot in his mouth.

“Guess that ‘potentially’ on polyamory isn’t on the table anymore.”

Stiles’ joke falls very flat. Derek and Jordan both stare at him, nonplussed. That feeling of being an outsider becomes even more prominent. “Right, well I am, uh, just going to leave you two. Have a nice day, night, rest of your lives.”

It’s an inelegant exit from the station, and when Stiles can’t stop himself from looking back, he sees that Jordan and Derek are still watching him. He stumbles and blushes and very resolutely doesn’t look back again.

So Stiles has a bigger problem now. The two guys are best friends.

He feels like all of this could have been avoided if he’d ever asked Derek for his name.

So much for just having to choose between them, because now that the two friends are no doubt talking about how Stiles flirted with the both of them, neither of them are going to want him.

-

Jordan knows that Derek will have been home for at least an hour by the time he finishes his shift, yet when he walks into their apartment the evening of the Stiles debacle, Derek is still in his work clothes, and sitting with his head in his hands on the sofa.

Jordan feels two things immediately. Guilt and fondness. Guilt that he’d pursued Stiles when Derek was interested in the spark, and fondness because he’s seen Derek sit in that exact spot with that exact pose so many times before. It’s a comforting familiarity.

“Derek?” Jordan makes his way to the couch. “I really am sorry about this Stiles thing.”

Derek groans and then raises his head, levelling Jordan with a look. “Please, Jor. Stop saying sorry. I’m as much at fault, thinking about the spark, about Stiles, when you were trying to start something with him.”

Jordan sits next to Derek. “But you didn’t know it was the same guy.”

“And neither did you.”

“Oh.” Jordan hadn’t really thought about it that way.

Him and Derek are in the same situation with Stiles. They both liked him. They both wanted to pursue something with him. Or maybe they still do. Jordan can’t deny that even after finding out that Derek was attracted to Stiles, it hasn’t made him feel any less like wanting to ask Stiles out. If anything, it’s had the opposite effect. That Derek likes Stiles is a boost for Jordan’s opinion of the spark. He trusts Derek’s judgement in all things.

Though something that _has_ been plaguing him in darker moments this afternoon is, why was Stiles flirting with both of them? Derek had confessed to Jordan after Stiles’ awkward exit from the station earlier that he’d run into the spark since the bar that night, and the two had talked and flirted quite a bit. Jordan didn’t think his jealousy had gone unnoticed by Derek, but he was kind enough not to say anything. So Stiles was flirting with Derek and Jordan at the same time.

Was it real, then, Stiles’ attraction to Jordan? Maybe he’d misread the signs. Maybe Stiles actually liked Derek, and just wanted Jordan for… something. Between himself and Derek, Jordan would choose Derek. But he’s biased, and ‘choosing’ Derek in that way is natural to Jordan these days. He wouldn’t have to think. Though Derek’s always telling Jordan he wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was into him even if they were right under his nose. So maybe Stiles wasn’t faking.

Where does that leave it all? Stiles likes both men?

With that thought, Jordan remembers something Stiles said earlier.

“Derek, what did Stiles mean when he said that polyamory thing? ‘I guess it’s off the table’?”

Derek leans back into the couch and then tilts his head away from Jordan. “When we were having lunch together, St-” Jordan’s stomach flips. Derek looks to him, eyes blue for a split second. He places his large palm on Jordan’s knee. “Hey, no. It wasn’t like that.”

“Sorr-”

Derek covers Jordan’s mouth with his other hand. He raises his eyebrows at Jordan until he relents and nods. Derek’s been berating Jordan about his tendency of reverting to self-deprecation since he moved in.

“He told me he was going to meet with someone – who I realise now was you – and I asked whether I should be worried, and he said maybe. Then he asked if I was interested in polyamory.” Jordan takes his turn to raise his eyebrows. Derek rubs at his cheek. “I said maybe.”

“Are you interested?” Jordan doesn’t know why the question pops out, but once it’s there, he doesn’t think to take it back.

Some part of him is curious to know. Derek’s always seemed so monogamous to Jordan, and polyamory something only to be found in niche television, so Jordan’s inquisitive side – the side that led him to become a deputy – surfaces. Would Derek ever be interested in a relationship like that? Interested in Jordan like that?

Derek takes his time to think about it, leaving Jordan time to think about which answer he’d prefer.

“I’m… I don’t know.” Derek moves to the edge of the couch and curls forward, elbows bracing on his thighs. Jordan watches his shirt tighten across his shoulders. “I know I barely know him, but I just feel like there’s something between me and Stiles. Something that I should go after, like I’ll regret it if I don’t.”

“Could be your wolf’s attraction to the spark,” Jordan suggests.

“Yeah, that’s probably some of it,” Derek agrees. “But I also like him on a more human level, just talking to him. Flirting. Looking at him.”

“Me too.” Jordan sits himself forwards, looks at Derek. “You do realise though, that Stiles has been flirting with us both at the same time. Do you feel, I don’t know, angry about it?”

Derek pauses again and fiddles with his watch, the one Jordan gave to him for his birthday two years ago.

“I probably should. I don’t.” Derek says it like it’s a confession.

“I don’t either,” Jordan confesses back.

Derek looks at him finally, a little surprised. Jordan’s a little surprised at himself too. He didn’t think his moral code would allow such a circumstance, but now that he’s thinking about it, able to see it as an almost tangible possibility, what’s wrong with it? What’s harmful about it? Nothing. And what could he gain from it? Derek and Stiles. That sounds like a pretty good thing to him.

“If Stiles called you right now and asked you out,” Derek starts, “would you say yes?”

“I’d want to. And if he called you?”

“I’d want to say yes.”

“And what if, what if,” Jordan shuffles closer to Derek on the couch and looks into his eyes for one second (two seconds, three seconds, four seconds) before asking. “What if he wanted to date both of us? Would you say yes to that?”

The questions hovers between them for a moment before Derek, not looking away from Jordan, simply says, “Yes.”

Jordan can’t believe it. “With me _and_ Stiles,” he clarifies. “All three of us together?”

Derek nods slowly. “I think so.”

Jordan feels lightheaded. A few minutes ago, he was sure he’d lost his chance with Stiles, and was worried he was losing something with Derek too. And now the chance to have a relationship with both men – Derek who he’s loved for years, and Stiles who his mind has fixated on from a mere handful of conversations – Jordan feels about ready to burst into flame.

“Jordan?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was just imagining it.” Jordan picks up his hand and lets it hover over Derek’s before he draws his fingers along the back of it. “I think I’d say yes too.”

Derek watches Jordan’s movement then flips his hand quickly to hold Jordan’s still. Heat crawls up his arm from the contact until he’s sure he’s blushing.

“So we both like Stiles, and we both want to date him,” Derek clarifies. Jordan nods. “And we’re both fine with trying to do that together.”

Jordan nods again. He’s excited thinking about it, but there is one factor he needs to address. Sure, they’ve skirted around it, but Jordan’s not happy with allusion and assumption. He needs proof.

Tucking one leg under the other so he can face Derek more properly, he asks, “What about the two of us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Derek.” Jordan pauses. “Are the two of us interested in… the two of us? Romantically.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Should we, I don’t know, test it?”

Derek raises his eyebrows, clearly holding in a laugh. Jordan wants to squirm his hand out of Derek’s but the werewolf holds on tight.

 ~~“~~ What?” he demands, chastised.

-

‘What’ is a good question and a fair enough suggestion, though one Derek knows is unnecessary. He’s had so much practise at hiding his attraction to Jordan, that humour is the automatic response, as opposed to admitting that there will be absolutely no issue on Derek’s end being romantically, sexually, or emotionally attracted to Jordan.

“It’s a valid point. It just sounds like a porn opener, don’t you think?” His tease causes the blush to return to Jordan’s face. Derek can tell that Jordan is worrying himself over this though, so he continues, “We can just test it while we’re dating Stiles. Why does it have to be sorted out now?”

“Wouldn’t you feel bad doing that to Stiles though? What if we both really like him and he likes us both back and he wants- and he asks- but you and I can’t-” Jordan doesn’t finish but his pulse starts racing, and that’s enough for Derek to sense where the sentence was going.

He moves closer to Jordan on the couch, so Jordan’s knee is pressing hard into his thigh.

Jordan doesn’t move his leg, but he leans his body back away from Derek. It’s not a good sign.

“Why are you leaning away?”

“Not used to it, sorry.”

“We’ve been closer before. Remember when we repainted your room and you spent the night with me?” Jordan nods. “We got pretty close then. When I woke up you were stuck all along my front.”

“I remember.”

Derek doesn’t know how to progress from here. Does he admit he likes Jordan? Will have no problem kissing him, holding him, having sex with him? Or would that just scare Jordan away? Maybe he needs something smaller first, something to warm Jordan up to the idea of the two of them. The talking seems to be soothing Jordan somewhat. He’s leaned back in towards Derek. Seems like continuing that is as good a start as any.

“I remember when I woke up, thinking that you smelt nice. Like home.”

Jordan blinks up at Derek.  “Really?”

“Yeah. And I, uh…” Jordan leans in even more and Derek can catch that scent again now, of home. It helps him steal himself to admit, “I got this overwhelming urge to lick you. Your neck, under your jaw. Just see if you would taste like home too.”

“Derek.” Jordan’s voice is a whisper. “Why didn’t you?”

Derek shrugs. He can’t remember why he held back now, only that he did, and that it took a lot for him to do so. “I guess because we were friends, and I didn’t think that’s what a friend would do.”

“Who would do it then?” Jordan reaches out to place his spare hand on Derek’s thigh. He’s hotter than Derek, and it’s a nice contrast to everyone else he touches regularly.

“A partner.”

And then Jordan says something that makes Derek think – hope – he’s not the only one hiding his attraction. “I think I would’ve let you.”

“Would you let me now?”

Jordan leans in as close as he can be to Derek without their noses touching, then he tips his head. Derek can see that Jordan is trembling slightly. He can see his pulse in the veins of his neck. He can see the fine golden hairs on Jordan’s skin.

He leans in before he can overthink it and licks a stripe along the vein, right up to beneath Jordan’s ear. He can feel Jordan trembling as he does it.

“Derek.” Jordan exhales. Derek follows up and presses his nose to Jordan’s hair behind his ear.

He inhales deeply, and it’s so amazing. Why he’s held off being this close to Jordan for so long is a mystery to Derek at this moment. It feels so right.

It feels right that Jordan moves his hand up from his thigh to Derek’s chest and then up over his neck and into his hair. It feels right that Jordan brings his lips to Derek’s and presses a gentle kiss there. It feels right to close his eyes and breathe in through his nose so all his senses are tied up in Jordan.

“This feels right,” he tells Jordan’s lips.

“Yeah, it does.” Jordan pulls back but not away, leaving a hand in Derek’s hair.

“So that’s not going to be a problem.” Derek states the obvious, unable to concentrate too much beyond the vision of a blushing, wet-lipped Jordan. A visual he’s so far only been able to imagine in dreams and fantasies. He knows Jordan so well that the reality is exactly how he pictured it.

“Maybe we should test some more,” Jordan suggests after a ragged breath.

Derek doesn’t bother replying with words, he simply leans to kiss Jordan again, pushing his tongue against Jordan’s lips until he opens them and ‘home’ explodes itself all over Derek’s tastebuds. He moans and shuffles closer to Jordan, moving hands around his waist to pull him closer. Jordan lets him, going so far as to lift his leg over Derek’s to help.

It’s like the kiss is unlocking every single door in his mind that Derek has locked his feelings and fantasies about Jordan behind. One kiss and he’s already right there, imagining what it’d be like to fuck him, to suck him off, to ride him. Every single fleeting thought Derek’s had glimpsing Jordan while he showered or after a workout is floating at the forefront of his brain and he just _wants_.

He can smell Jordan’s arousal just as strongly as his own, and it encourages him to untuck Jordan’s shirt and slip a hand under it so he can press skin against skin.

“Derek, Derek,” Jordan gasps. Derek hums his acknowledgment but can’t – won’t – stop from tasting more of Jordan. “Shouldn’t we stop?”

“Why?” Derek pushes the hem of Jordan’s shirt down and sucks at his collarbones.

“Because two seconds ago we were just friends and now we’re making out, and I think we’ve skipped some steps in the middle.”

Derek pulls back and looks at the hickey on Jordan’s skin.

“You’ve always been more than a friend to me, Jordan.” The admission tumbles itself out on a crest of adrenaline. “I’ve liked you for- for so long.”

“But your date the-”

“I only went on that because I was trying to get over you. And now it feels like I don’t have to.” Derek continues rubbing his palms over Jordan’s back, tracing patterns with his fingertips.

Jordan looks winded and flushed and his eyes are glazing fiery yellow. “You don’t. I don’t want that. I didn’t want to get over you either.”

Derek holds still at that. Get over him?

“Jordan? What do you mean?”

“I mean tha-” He moves Derek’s arms out from under his shirt, and Derek lets him hold them between their bodies. “I mean I’ve liked you too. I was just waiting, I think, for you to see me like that. And then Stiles gave me his number and you told me to call him, and I started thinking I could like Stiles _instead_ of you.” Jordan presses a quick kiss to Derek’s parted lips. “That didn’t work out exactly as planned. He kept reminding me of you. I just started liking him too.”

“We should ask him out,” Derek declares. It feels right to him, right to bring Jordan and him and Stiles together into a trio.

“Okay. Yes.” Jordan nods jerkily. “Tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, I-” And Derek can’t help himself. He surges forward to kiss Jordan again, using the handhold to flip him onto his back on the couch. He gives and takes in equal measure and when Jordan lets one of his legs drop to the floor, bringing their hips together, Derek starts moving shallowly against him.

Derek hasn’t felt this riled up in a long time. With Jordan beneath him, kissing Derek furiously, hot hands grasping at shoulders and hips, with the thought that tomorrow, together, they’re going to ask Stiles out, he feels bigger than himself. Eager. Excited. Happy.

They’re going to ask Stiles out tomorrow, and tonight, he and Jordan are going to blur their friendship into something else.

-

Stiles has resigned himself to avoiding both the library and the police station for the remainder of his life. It may not be a good decision for his private investigating, but it’s a great decision for his state of mind.

He’ll be getting enough sleepless nights as is playing the ‘what if’ game without rubbing the salt of _seeing_ Derek and Jordan into the wound of not being able to _be_ with Derek and Jordan. Derek or Jordan.

Derek and Jordan?

Stiles spins around on the office chair behind his work desk, watching the ceiling turn into a whirlpool of speckled white. It’s surprisingly calming.

It’s broken by the chime of his doorbell. Not an actual doorbell, but a warning system he created that lets him know when someone’s entering the building with the intention to find him. It dings twice. Two someones then. Not as common in his line of work, but not unheard of either.

What’s unexpected though is to see that Jordan and Derek are those two someones when the door opens of its own accord as they reach the threshold of Stiles’ office.

They look good together. And happy. Which is nice, Stiles supposes, that they seem to have bonded over Stiles being into them both. Now they’ve come to gloat or demand an apology or threaten him.

“How did you find me?” Stiles asks, still a little dizzy from the spinning.

“I’m a deputy.”

“I’m a werewolf.”

“Got it.” Stiles nods slowly and fidgets with his container of pens. “Did you have a case for me?”

“Not exactly,” Jordan hedges.

“Right, well.” Stiles makes himself stop fidgeting, pressing his hands firmly into his desk instead. He’s jumping in before they demand it of him. “In that case, I should probably apologise to you two. I was flirting with both of you at the same time and that’s, you know, not really socially acceptable in the long-run and whatnot.”

“You two have got to stop apologizing for this,” Derek says with some exasperation, and some smiling, the latter of which confuses Stiles greatly. Smiling with fondness toward him? Uh, where is that coming from? Surely it should be a scowl, maybe an actual growl, a bit of posturing and a ‘stay away from us, you horrible person’.

Stiles blinks heavily a few times to see if what he’s seeing is real. It seems to be. Derek standing with that smile still on his face, and Jordan smiling too, a little nervous.

“Sorry?” Stiles tries.

Derek rolls his eyes and Jordan laughs. “You shouldn’t be sorry. If anything, we’re grateful for it.”

“For me flirting with both of you?” Stiles tries to clarify.

“Yeah,” Jordan says. “It made us figure some stuff out.”

Derek looks fondly at Jordan as he says it, and Stiles follows his eyes to Jordan’s neckline. Judging by the hickey there, Stiles can tell what that ‘stuff’ was. He feels sad seeing it actually, like it’s the final proof needed to convince himself that he ruined his own chances with both Derek and Jordan. How depressing.

His mood shift is obvious enough that Derek catches it. “Why are you sad?”

Stiles sighs and sparks Jordan’s shirt a little so the hem slips, revealing the mark in full. Jordan jolts and pulls his shirt back up.

“Congratulations. Glad I helped you sort out your feelings for each other.” His enthusiasm reads fake even to him.

“Didn’t answer my question. Why are you sad?” Derek repeats.

“It’s stupid,” Stiles argues.

“Might not be?” Jordan suggests. “Derek and I recently learnt that being honest can be pretty rewarding.”

“Hmm.” Derek hums in agreement.

“Fine! Okay,” Stiles starts, standing up without really meaning to. “I’m sad because I like you both and you’re amazing and nice and, I don’t know, fun and attractive, and I screwed it all up because I flirted with you both, and you knew each other, and now _you’re_ together and I missed the chance at either of you. I just hurt a little bit and it’s sad.” He flops back into the chair. “Also you look goddamn happy together and so it sucks that I can’t feel too sorry for myself because I made that good thing happen.”

Derek and Jordan partake in some eyebrow communication, then part ways and step around his desk, one either side, until they’re flanking him. What follows sounds well-rehearsed.

“It _is_ a good thing.”

“A great thing.”

“And we think it could be even better.”

“With you as well.”

Stiles blinks first at Jordan, then at Derek.

Then he asks the obvious. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Derek leans back against his desk. “We both want to date you. We’re asking you out.”

Jordan moves to Derek and leans against him. The pair are right in front of Stiles.

“Stiles.” Jordan smiles at him. “Would you like to go out with the two of us?”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yes.” No over-thinking, no second-guessing, just putting the truth out there.

From the way Derek and Jordan both beam, it’s worth it. So worth it. Stiles stands up and steps closer to the pair.

“Just to check, this is real? It’s not another one of my dreams? I mean, you guys are really asking me out?”

“Yeah,” Jordan says, reaching for Stiles’ limp hand to pull him even closer, toes edging up against Jordan’s boots. “Does this feel real?”

Jordan’s hand squeezes Stiles’ and that feels incredibly real. And incredibly hot. Then Derek picks up his other hand, and the three of them are left standing in a strange circle thing, looking into each other’s eyes. It’s all very cheesy, but;

“Yeah, it feels real. Hard to miss seeing as you’re both freakin’ hot.” They laugh and then Stiles blushes, realising the unintentional double-entendre. “I mean your temperatures.”

“Hellhounds and werewolves run higher than most supernaturals,” Jordan explains.

“ _Hellhound_. That makes a lot of sense.” Why Jordan’s hotter than Derek, why his hickey is still there, why Stiles couldn’t figure out what he was. Half his shtick is masking the supernatural, so figures his spark would get confused.

“You didn’t know?” Jordan asks him. Stiles shakes his head. “I guess there’s a lot of stuff we don’t know about each other.”

“You guys know more than I do,” Stiles can’t help but say, a little petulant.

“That’s what the dating’s for,” Derek points out. “Besides, we’ve only known each other as friends. Nothing more.”

Stiles raises a disbelieving eyebrow at Derek and then extracts a hand to pull down Jordan’s shirt once again. When he presses a finger into the hickey, Jordan’s eyes flash yellow.

“We didn’t go that far,” Derek says, nostrils flaring slightly.

“I wanted the three of us to experience our first time with each other, _with_ each other. All together.”

“How very noble of you.” Jordan shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Stiles feels very touched by the consideration. Particularly as it came before they were even sure he’d agree to dating both of them.

Oh. Hold on. That’s a thing that just happened. Stiles agreed to date Derek and Jordan.

It sinks in then, physically, like a glob of sunlight dropping into his chest. He starts laughing.

“Holy shit. Holy shit. I’m actually going to be dating you, both of you.” He flops himself onto their bodies and hugs them, pressing his face first into Jordan’s neck, then Derek’s. “What are you doing now? Do you want to grab lunch from somewhere?”

Derek’s hand finds its way to Stiles back while Jordan uses his grip on Stiles’ bicep to push a bit of distance between them for easier eye-contact.

“We were thinking of Mason’s.”

“Hell yes, guys. I love that place.”

“It’s a date,” they say in unison.

-

Stiles inhales curly fries like there’s a timeframe on them existing on his plate and it’s almost up. It reminds Derek of Jordan with honeycomb, and he files it away in the list of things he’s leaning about Stiles this lunch. He already had his attractiveness and brilliance at banter. Now he’s got his profession, where he grew up, his favourite book, his least favourite Marvel adaptation, and his proper name.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Stiles has been dunking the same fry into some aioli for almost a minute now, so whatever the question is going to be, it’s probably going to be personal, more so than things he’s already asked.

“Shoot,” Derek says, taking another bite of his sandwich while Jordan nods beside him.

“Okay. So. I’m curious.” He drops the fry and licks the salt from his fingers – Derek feels Jordan’s leg twitch beside him – before folding his hands together and leaning closer to Derek and Jordan. “If you guys both liked each other, and you lived together. Surely, _something_ must’ve happened before now?”

“Uh, well.” Jordan looks over to Derek, seeking his help. Derek just jerks his head. “I mean I’ve maybe seen Derek naked once or twice.”

Derek chokes a little on his food. It’s not that he didn’t assume that had happened, he’s seen Jordan after all (more than ‘once or twice’), but the sudden intense smell of arousal from both Jordan and Stiles is overwhelming, and surprising. How had he never noticed that smell around Jordan before? As Stiles said, they do live together.

“Well then I applaud your self-restraint. If I saw either of you naked, I’d be unstoppable.”

“Unstoppable?” Derek blames the food for how choked it comes out, but truth is, ‘unstoppable’ is a rather loaded work for the situation.

“Oh yeah,” Stiles drawls, voice deepening slightly. “I can show you sometime.” And then he winks.

Derek is stunned – aroused? – into silence. Seems Jordan is too.

“Okay, okay. I’m willing to accept that you haven’t done anything aside from your furious kissing last night… but you’ve at least jerked off thinking about the other, right?”

“Stiles!” Jordan exclaims.

“Yes,” Derek states.

“Derek!” Jordan’s going red, and Derek glances at Stiles to find him obviously pleased with this turn of events, eyes bright in anticipation of hearing this story. Because knowing Stiles, and Derek’s getting there slowly, he’s going to needle a story out of him and Jordan about this.

“So, tell me about it,” Stiles prompts Derek. “What was he not wearing, how did it happen, what did you imagine him doing to you? I’m a lover of words. It’ll probably turn me on. Which is a hot tip the both of you can file away for later.”

“We’re in a public place, Stiles!” Jordan looks around sheepishly.

“You think it’s going to progress that far if Derek answers me?”

“You just admitted you’d be turned on by us describing it. So yes,” Derek states dryly.

“Compromise then?” Derek nods and Jordan does a funny half-shrug. “Let’s take this to your place.”

Derek and Jordan exchange wordless communication. One day, Stiles will be in on that too.

“Okay then,” Jordan says. “We’re in.”

“Great.”

-

“I half expected you would have spelled us out of our clothes by now,” Derek states dryly the seventh second after Jordan’s shut the door behind them all.

“Spelled?” Stiles spins, looking around Jordan and Derek’s apartment. Jordan is worried that it’s not tidy, but if the state of Stiles’ work desk is anything to go off, it won’t matter.

“Is that not the correct terminology?” he asks.

“Not sure that there is one. I normally go for ‘sparked’. Or in the specific usage you’re referring to,” Stiles throws an arm out to Jordan and for the third time today he feels his hem slip down of its own accord, “I like to refer to it as close range telekinesis.”

“So you could ~~,~~ ” Jordan says, intrigued.

“Yeah, sure, but it’d take just as much effort as physically doing it, and sometimes that’s more fun.” Stiles gives Jordan a look and then cocks his head. “But since you’re so curious…” He lifts his right hand up and then flicks his fingers in a shooing gesture at Derek. The top button on Derek’s shirt pops open.

Derek looks down at it then up to Stiles, probably thinking along the same lines as Jordan. Stiles’ spark will be a lot of fun in the bedroom. Stiles flicks his fingers a few more times and then makes a final pushing gesture. Derek’s shirt flaps open completely, revealing his toned chest.

“Ta-da.” Stiles bites his lip and hums satisfactorily. “Jordan, your self-control must be of epic proportions.”

“Not so much,” he admits. It’s true normally, and even more so now that he knows he’s _allowed_ to want Derek. To want to touch and taste and smell and look at him.

“Are you going to do Jordan, too?” Derek asks of Stiles. He’s standing totally at ease with his partial nudity, and his suggestion is teasing.

Stiles can’t seem to take his eyes off Derek, and Jordan doesn’t blame him. If he wasn’t witness to Derek’s workout regime, he’d think those muscles were photoshopped.

“Arms up,” Stiles says, reaching his right hand out to Jordan this time. Jordan complies with minimal fuss, and the next thing he knows his shirt is making its own way up his torso and over his shoulder and head, slumping to the floor behind him.

Stiles then moves his eyes over to Jordan, and he’s flattered to see Stiles’ look of desire levelled toward him.

He looks over at Derek, and then nods his head toward Stiles. Derek dips his head and then moves in sync with Jordan. The two trap Stiles in between them, and Jordan yanks his shirt off from the bottom hem while Derek hold him steady at his hips.

Stiles yelps a little and then sighs out when Jordan drops his hands down on top of Derek’s. the three pressed chest to chest, Derek’s front against Stiles’ back, and Stiles’ front against Jordan’s.

Jordan doesn’t know what the others are feeling, but he hopes it’s as great as the emotions swirling in him. For as many as there are all fighting for a place in his chest and throat, overall he feels settled. Like he’s standing right where he needs to be. He breathes in deeply and feels Stiles breathe in with him. He watches Derek’s shoulders rise and fall gently. Jordan closes his eyes until he can feel the three of them breathing in sync.

“Jordan?” Stiles whispers.

“Yeah. What is it?”

“Can I kiss you now?” For all their time earlier in the day convincing Stiles, he still sounds a little unsure of their interest in him. His earlier cockiness is gone, perhaps pushed away by the physical closeness of Derek and Jordan.

Jordan looks first to Derek, who smiles and gives him a small nod, then to Stiles.

He leans in and then waits for Stiles to close the distance between them.

When Stiles’ lips touch his own, Jordan can’t help but hum. His lips are soft and slick, and though he’s not unafraid to move, it’s still gentle and polite, like a first kiss should be. Jordan backs away, smiling at Stiles. He kisses his cheek then slowly spins him around until Stiles is facing Derek. Jordan watches as Derek glances down at Stiles lips, sees the widening of his pupils before Derek closes his eyes and leans in as Stiles does. Jordan cranes his head to the side so he can watch them kiss.

It’s strange to look at a kiss this close, almost mechanic in the actual action of it. Though never having kissed before, Stiles and Derek are almost perfectly mirroring each other, lips opening and closing at the same time, heads changing angle within the same second. Jordan is entranced. He could watch this for hours, listening to their breathing and their lips coming together and away.

It seems they have other ideas though. Stiles, perhaps feeling Jordan’s growing arousal against his body, reaches a hand up around the back of Jordan’s head. He breaks off from Derek and then pulls Jordan in.

“Your turn.”

Jordan goes with it, kissing Derek around Stiles’ body. Though he hasn’t got enhanced senses like a werewolf’s, he can almost taste Stiles on Derek’s tongue. Kissing Derek is settling into the strange midway point between new and familiar.

Stiles has still got his hand in Jordan’s hair, and he’s playing with it as Derek kisses him, scratching fingernails over his scalp. When he hits a sensitive spot, Jordan shudders and parts his mouth on a gasp.

Derek stops kissing him. “What is it?”

Jordan shakes his head and presses his face into Derek’s neck.

“Think I found a sensitive spot for him.”

Jordan nods for Stiles. “Mmm. Feels good.” He realises he can feel the fabric of Derek’s shirt against his cheek, and he pushes it off so that he’s properly shirtless.

“Good idea,” Stiles says. “Another good idea might be moving to the bedroom?”

Derek pulls away from them both and starts toward his own bedroom. He has the bigger bed.

Stiles follows eagerly, shooting a confident smile to Jordan as he walks backwards after Derek. Jordan picks up their shirts to carry in with him, and by the time he gets there, Stiles has Derek face down on the bed, and is tracing over Derek’s tattoo.

Jordan stands in the doorway to watch. He doesn’t miss the minuscule movement of Derek’s hips as Stiles effectively straddles his thighs to reach his tattoo.

“Wait for me,” Jordan says.

“Snooze, you lose,” Stiles shoots back.

“I hope that’s not how this trio is going to operate.” Derek levers up to his elbows, forcing Stiles to sit back more. “Come on,” he says to Jordan.

“Where do you want me?” Jordan asks.

“Like before,” Stiles replies immediately, moving to one side of Derek. “Scooch up.” Stiles shoves Derek playfully, and Derek lets Stiles guide him until he’s lying on the left side of the bed, facing in. Stiles lies down in front of him and then gestures theatrically to the empty space on the right hand side of the bed. “Saved you a spot.”

Jordan takes a step towards Stiles, nerves for what’s about to happen eased by the humour. He stops still when Stiles raises a hand to him.

“It’s a no pants zone, I’m afraid.”

“Stiles, you’re wearing pants,” Derek points out, running his fingers around the top of his jeans demonstratively.

“Care to fix it for me?”

Jordan can tell Derek is amused by Stiles’ antics, but he still reaches his right hand around Stiles’ hips to undo the button of his jeans and pull down the zipper. Jordan makes his way to the bed to help Derek with the rest, pulling Stiles’ jeans off and adding them to the pile of shirts he brought in earlier. Derek and Jordan take their own pants off while Stiles lays on his back, head propped up on his crossed arms, and watches.

The three get settled, Derek and Jordan leaning over Stiles.

“How far did you want to go tonight?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “Jordan?”

“I don’t know.” He bites his lip, thinking it over. He’s aroused for sure, ready and wanting to do something. But it feels too much and too new to take things all the way tonight. They’re still learning about each other, after all, what they like and they don’t. Jordan’s only ever been in two person relationships, so he knows it’s going to be a trial and error to strike a satisfying sexual balance for them.

“What about,” Stiles says, “let’s not get into the fucking just yet, early days and all.”

Jordan is glad to see Derek nodding along with him in agreement. Stiles waits for them to verbalise their yes’s though, then starts moving his hands from beneath his head to run one down both Jordan and Derek’s chests.

“I want to lie here and jerk you both off. And I want to watch you kiss while I do it. For or against?”

Jordan doesn’t miss Derek’s sharp intake of breath, nor does Stiles. Stiles moves his gaze to Derek’s, and Jordan can see the glowing blue of Derek’s eyes reflected in Stiles’. Seems he’s on board. Stiles smiles, pleased with himself, and turns to Jordan.

“For,” Jordan says, then leans down to kiss Stiles. Stiles lets it go on for a few moments before pushing Jordan away. His skin is ruddy, and Jordan loves it.

He turns to Derek, who’s been watching him, and then kisses him. It starts off simple, lips moving against one another. Jordan keeps his right forearm pressed flat against the bed near Stiles’ head to steady himself, and the other he lifts to tangle in Derek’s hair. Jordan knows Derek’s got one arm on the bed for balance too, so it’s strange, almost unsettling, to feel two hands running over his torso. Derek’s, he can tell because it’s hotter than Stiles’, down around his hips, teasing at edge of his briefs, and Stiles’ is currently up around his shoulder blades, occasionally glancing over a nipple.

Stiles has stopped talking, but every now and then he lets out a sigh or a moan, egging Jordan on.

When Stiles slips his hand under Jordan’s briefs, and he first feels his hand wrap around his cock, Jordan can’t help but gasp and rock in closer to both Derek and Stiles. The growl from Derek has Jordan assuming that Stiles pulled the same move on Derek.

Suddenly the kiss is a lot more ferocious. Derek’s tongue works against Jordan’s lips until he opens them, and then it’s inside his mouth and Jordan is moaning around it, and sucking on Derek’s tongue when it stays still long enough that he can. He tightens his grip in Derek’s hair. Stiles lets out a string of profanity, and his grip around Jordan tightens.

Jordan rocks into Stiles’ hold shamelessly now, and with the amount the bed is moving, he’s convinced Derek is too. He has to check, so he opens his eyes. He can’t see while still kissing Derek so he breaks away, putting some distance between them. Derek _is_ rocking himself into Stiles’ fist, and it’s breathtaking to watch. Derek is tensed and his cock is furiously veined, leaking precome which leaves Stiles’ fingers glistening. Stiles himself is still flushed red, and he’s biting his lip so fiercely the skin around his teeth is turning white.

Derek obviously misses kissing someone, because he leans down to Stiles and plucks the abused lip out from Stiles’ teeth with his own.

“Holy shit,” Jordan can’t help but let out. There’s no holding back in the kiss, and Jordan can see their tongues switching in and out of each other’s mouths, the occasional string of spit stretching between them.

Stiles hands haven’t stopped moving, though the pace is strangely sedate compared to the kiss going on between him and Derek. Jordan can tell that Stiles is incredibly hard, and Stiles’ hips are thrusting up in time with his hands, striving for any kind of friction. Jordan can’t help himself. He brings his own hand down over the front of Stiles’ underwear. The heat coming from Stiles is incredible. Stiles starts moaning louder now that he has something solid to rub up against, and Jordan can feel the wet patch on Stiles’ briefs expanding as he gets closer.

Stiles’ moans are getting louder too, and Derek lets out his own pitched sighs with every other thrust. The three of them on the bed are messy, and whatever strategy Stiles had with his plan is lost now to desire and the need to come.

Jordan starts thrusting faster, and Stiles’ hands picks up the pace; he breaks his kiss with Derek but leans for Jordan straight away. Jordan meets him halfway, sucking in his bottom lip. He moves Stiles’ underwear out the way so he can wrap his fingers unhindered around his cock. Stiles whimpers when he does so, and it’s Derek’s turn to swear. He’s kissing along Stiles’ neck and around the shell of his ear.

“I’m close,” Derek gets out.

“Same,” Jordan says.

Stiles speeds up and Jordan goes from close to over the edge in just a few strokes. He moans into Stiles’ mouth and thrusts himself through it, though he forgets to keep up his jerking of Stiles in his pleasure. When he’s done, he watches as Derek places his own hand on top of Stiles’, tightening their grip. He inhales at Stiles obviously as he comes, shooting over his and Stiles’ hands.

Derek pants heavily and drops kisses along Stiles’ neck and throat as he’s coming down.

Stiles, hands dropped now from Jordan and Derek, is still thrusting his hips.

“Jordan, Jordan. Move, move, move,” he chants.

Jordan obeys, moving his hand quickly over Stiles’ whose eyes are screwed up. Jordan predicts his orgasm a few second before it washes over Stiles. His come joins with Derek’s and Jordan’s already covering his chest. When Stiles’ body goes limp and loose afterwards, Jordan finally lies down properly on the bed.

He lets himself swim in the blissful post-orgasm haze, a hand resting still on Stiles’ thigh. Stiles’ eyes are shut and he’s smiling beautifully, looking totally at ease between Derek and Jordan. Derek’s blinking lazily and looks on the edge of sleep. He manages enough energy to give Jordan a satisfied smile and a nod though.

Jordan thinks Derek has the right idea. A nap curled around the two of them sounds pretty appealing to him.

He takes it upon himself to grab some tissues from Derek’s bedside table and clean the worst of the mess off Stiles. He lies down on his side and hooks his calf around Stiles, tucking his hands up under his head.

“If that’s the sign of things to come,” Stiles says lazily, “I think the three of us are going to be something great.”

Derek hums, content, and Jordan kisses Stiles’ temple.

**Author's Note:**

> More quality content on my [ tumblr](http://whatthehellisahoechlin.tumblr.com).


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